Messiah

William Klein

(Sheffield International Documentary Festival on tour at the National Film Theatre, London, 27 January)

There is no obvious way to set Handel's Messiah to film. Unlike an opera, an oratorio does not have a visual aspect that lends itself to the medium. You could simply film a choir in action, but that would make for a second rate version of the live experience. Instead, William Klein has attempted to add something to the piece. It is an ambitious project, but ultimately he has succeeded in creating something altogether new.

For those of us capable of sitting still for two hours (and even at the NFT, that ain't everyone), Messiah is an opportunity to reflect on the state of the contemporary world, and of Christianity in particular, measured against Handel's magnificently optimistic music. What reinforcement may we gain from hope? If not, what resolution from despair?

The opening scene has a half naked man on a rock in the desert miming unconvincingly 'Comfort ye, my people, saith your God'. The juxtaposition of heartfelt music with various forms of artifice is a recurring feature of the film. (Intentional or not, I'm not sure). Images of Las Vegas-style evangelism, religious tattoos and bodybuilders for Christ seem to be there to mock the music, except that Handel always seems to win out.

An alto glares accusingly at the audience as she sings 'But who may abide the day of His coming? And who shall stand when He appeareth? For He is like a refiner's fire'. You don't have to be a Christian to want to take up the challenge: shouldn't we be better than this?

At various points, an odd chorus is picked up by choirs singing in a more contemporary style. The first of these is the New York Gay and Lesbian People of Colour Gospel Choir. ..OK. Later the baton is picked up by a prison choir (with an excellent soloist) and a police choir. The effect varies, but is generally uplifting rather than annoying. It is the images that disturb.

One particularly affecting juxtaposition comes when pictures of Neil Armstrong and other triumphant astronauts are followed by an image of a polystyrene spaceman holding a packet of fries on a McDonald's sign, as an alto sings 'He shall feed His flock'. This is the modern equivalent of money-lenders in the temple, and we are left wishing for a modern saviour to kick over the McDonald's commercial and relaunch the space programme. (Rather than kicking over the McDonald's commercial and then turning on Starbucks.)

'Why do the nations so furiously rage together, and why do the people imagine a vain thing?' is accompanied, rather obviously, by pictures of conflict and war from across the globe. One particularly awful image is probably from Rwanda: several men kick and stab a man lying helplessly on the road. Watching this is strangely reminiscent of the scene in A Clockwork Orange where Alex is forced to watch violent pornography while listening to Beethoven. Handel takes a battering here, and it takes the righteous violence of the hallelujah chorus to help the viewer recover.

At this screening, the end of the hallelujah chorus saw a minor exodus of people who evidently had hoped that this was the finale, and in fleeing for the exits they unwittingly reinforced the film's polemic. There is little comfort to be had here, people, and certainly none of a religious nature, but there is plenty to think about. I believe the soundtrack is available on CD.